Chapter 1

By the time the Opening Feast started, Hermione's hot, seething anger at Draco's cruel words had been replaced by cold, hard bitterness and resolve. Her brain had started to kick in half-way through the trip to Hogwarts as she remained in the Prefects' compartment by herself. She didn't join her friends for the duration of the ride, feeling the need to be by herself with only Crookshanks for company to sort out her burning desire to go after Malfoy and scratch out his eyes. Besides, one look at Harry and Ron's faces, and she would have succumbed to the need to express her righteous indignation at Malfoy's treatment. That would have led to another one of Ron's loud fits, resulting with her friends rushing over to Malfoy's compartment and hexing the hell out of him. Hermione had no objections to seeing Malfoy hexed, but if anyone of her friends attacked Malfoy, he would know that he had gotten to her. He would know that he had upset her, and that was unacceptable to Hermione. She knew that whatever pleasure he derived from talking down to her would only be surpassed by the knowledge that his words had worked. She wasn't ever going to give him that satisfaction.

Besides, if there was any hexing to be done, she wanted to be the one to do it. Then she realised that no amount of hexing and cursing would make Draco Malfoy pay for what he had said to her, for what he thought of her, for how he made her feel that morning, for what he represented in her life. No, revenge was a dish best served cold, Hermione thought. And I will have my revenge. The only question is how.

For her, the best revenge against Malfoy would be something that would have him on his knees, humiliated beyond recognition, and cursing himself for his stupidity. In public. The best revenge is for him to feel exactly the way she felt as he hurled those deliberately hurtful words at her. Yes, we know that already, Hermione. But how do you do it? How do you humiliate Draco Malfoy?

She glanced at the Slytherin table for an answer, but it wasn't to be found there. Draco Malfoy had everything, it seemed. He had grown up to be one of the most good-looking wizards in the history of Hogwarts, having girls (and some boys) swooning at the sight of his silver eyes, white-blond hair, angelic face, and that tall, lean and muscled body. He carried his robes well -- not an easy feat, considering that wizarding robes weren't the most masculine of attires. He was almost as tall as Ron Weasley, but he had a grace about him that most Quidditch Seekers had -- a limber-ness that allowed them to do the most amazing twists and turns as they attempted to catch the Golden Snitch. So obviously, his humiliation was not to be found in his physical appearance.

It was not to be found in his brains either. Draco Malfoy was an intelligent creature, almost as clever and as talented as Hermione herself. The only reason why he was second to her academically is that he did not have the kind of dedication to his academic life that people who felt they needed to prove themselves had. Hermione's need to prove herself as a brilliant witch despite being Muggleborn made her try harder and do better than Malfoy. Besides, I've been been top of our class for seven years now and if that's not enough to humble him, then it will never be enough, Hermione concluded.

On top of being a beautiful, intelligent young man, Draco was the only heir to both the Malfoy and Black fortunes. And while that did not matter one bit to Hermione, she knew that it would have been easier for her to humiliate him if he had come from a less monied background. She remembered the times when he insulted Ron for being poor, and how that ate away at her friend's self-esteem. Other people might romanticise poverty as a more noble way of living, but to those who live in it, there was nothing romantic or noble about it. Hermione might have lived comfortably all her life, her parents being two of the top dentists in Britain, but that did not shelter her from knowing that most people who grew up poor carried chips on their shoulders about it. She briefly mourned the lack of that chip on Malfoy's shoulders before turning her thoughts on other aspects to hateful Pure Blood .

She considered the possibility that he would have issues about where his father was at the moment. Lucius Malfoy had been spending the past two years in Azkaban, under the watchful eye of the security trolls. Then she realised that it did not bother Draco one bit. After all, the younger Malfoy had been able to avoid his father's sullied name by aligning himself with the Light Side. He had publicly and socially redeemed himself, and removed his name and reputation as far away as he could from his father's.

The very things that, in a perfect world, should have made Draco Malfoy a quality human being, were the same gifts that had turned him into the arrogant man that he was. That made it hard for Hermione to find a chink in his perfect facade. A shame really, Hermione mused, that someone with so many admirable traits and characteristics also possessed the most abhorrent attitude towards and racist view of everyone around him. He could have been a great man, instead he's nothing but a great prat.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Harry finally realised that she had been quiet for too long.

"Everything alright, Hermione?" he asked. Over the past few years, Hermione had grown quieter and more introspective, and Harry suspected that that was Hermione's true nature. She was a loner at heart, and the only reason why she had begun a friendship with him and Ron was because she was pulled into and intrigued by their adventures during their 1st years in Hogwarts. After everything they had shared, their common history and taking turns in saving each other's lives, in the past seven years, Hermione may have opened up enough to let Harry, Ron and a few others in, but Harry felt that if Hermione found herself alone for the rest of her life with only Crookshanks to keep her company, she would be quite content. So he made it a point to pull her out of her solitude from time to time, to get her out of her own head, to remind her that there were people around her who noticed when she retreated within herself.

"Everything's fine, Harry." Hermione smiled at him warmly. She had been wondering when one of them would finally pull her out of her reverie. She didn't mind, really. Not anymore. She used to be annoyed at the constant chatter that people in her House thrived on, but she had long learned to appreciate their outward and obvious expression of camaraderie and friendship. With Harry, Ron, Ginny and other Gryffindors constantly at her side, Hermione had learned to let go of some of her need to be alone, and had been glad for that.

"How did your first meeting as Head Girl go? The Head Prat didn't give you any grief, I hope." Harry smiled back.

Hermione schooled her expression to betray none of her real thoughts. "It went pretty well, Harry. Better than expected. And don't worry about the Head Ferret, I'll deal with him."

"I'm sure you will, Hermione, I'm sure you will." Harry nodded. If there was one person who could put Malfoy in his place, that would be Hermione, Harry thought.

Hermione left her thoughts for the duration of the meal, participating instead in the lively discussion at the Gryffindor table. She didn't want anyone to be clued in on her real mood and thoughts, opting to keep her anger and her plans for revenge to herself. She felt that expressing what was going on in her mind at this point would diminish her indignance and her need to make Draco Malfoy pay. The moment she opened her mouth to let them in on her feelings and her anger, they would begin dishing out insults against him, and that would distract her and soothe her anger. That was how they had dealt with Malfoy's cruelty in the past. While there had been a few confrontations and scuffles to release their anger at his arrogance and cruelty, the most effective way the Gryffindors had expressed their common hatred was to sit around, ranting and raving and coming up with the most creative insults against Malfoy and his cronies. But this time, Hermione did not want to be soothed by witty insults and cruel jokes. She wanted her bitterness to fester inside her. She would need to keep it inside in order to keep it alive enough to pull off whatever revenge she planned against that hideous boy. So she decided to keep it a secret from her friends. She had always worked better on her own anyway. Rita Skeeter in their 4th year, the Protean coins in their 5th year, not to mention all her academic achievements, were all done without help from her friends. She was confident she would be able to pull this off on her own.

After dinner, Hermione headed for the Gryffindor dormitories to organise her things before her meeting with Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonogall and Draco Malfoy at the Headmaster's Office. They needed to discuss the decisions that were made during the meeting with the Prefects on the train. She was mentally making a list of the things she needed to bring to the meeting when she overheard a few students talking behind her.

"Hey, did you hear about Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones?"

"What about them? What happened? Is he still after her?"

"Well you know that last year, Ernie asked Susan out so many times but she kept on refusing him, right? Well, have you seen him now? He's delish! He said he spent the summer yachting with his uncles, and I guess that explains how yummy he is now. All tanned and muscular. People were saying that they saw Susan trying to talk to Ernie in the train, but he just remained polite and told her that he was going out with Padma Patil now. Susan must regret turning him down last year."

Hermione, who had only half-paid attention to the conversation, started at the word "regret". Yes, regret. That was the one thing that would make Draco Malfoy pay for his words today, for his treatment of her and her friends for the past seven years, for his arrogance. Regret would knock him off his self-appointed throne.Regret would bring him to his knees. Regret would do so much more damage than just plain humiliation. But how do you make someone who has everything regret anything? How do you make someone that arrogant regret his actions? Hermione asked herself.

A voice inside her replied: Make him regret thinking about you and your friends that way. Make him sorry for his horrid treatment of you.

But how?

Hermione continued pondering about how to make Malfoy regret as she reached the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Hello, dear." The Fat Lady smiled. "Password?"

"Jitterbug Jellies," Hermione replied.

"You look a bit lost, my dear. Anything I can help you with?" The Fat Lady asked.

"Thanks, but no--"

Hermione's further response was interrupted when a gang of 6th year Gryffindors boys burst through the entrance laughing. When they saw Hermione, they all blushed then looked away, then cast sideway guilty glances at each other. One of them quickly hid something behind his back before all the boys all but ran from the door, chuckling. Hermione, who was well aware that her looks were not enough to make teenage boys blush, looked at The Fat Lady who was shaking her head exasperatedly.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, you know, Ms. Granger, boys will be boys. Did you not see the magazine they were looking at before they saw you?"

"What magazine?"

"Well, I suspect it was one of those rags teenage boys like so much. The one with pictures of scantily-clad witches."

"Disgusting." Hermione shook her head.

"I know, dear, but like I said, boys will be boys. All boys that age ever really think about is girls. I tell you, if you can make a boy want you, you can bring him to his knees." The Fat Lady smiled conspiratorily at Hermione.

Hermione nodded and as the older woman's words sunk in, she grinned. Yes, that was it. The key to my revenge. I will make him want me, then I will throw it back to his face.